I Don't Know You Anymore
by weasley74
Summary: It had been hard for them, going back to something they'd never really been. But they had tried, they had made it work, they had been friends. Even if it had turned out to be temporary. OOC. PreHBP. [Abandoned]
1. Hide and Seek

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter 1  
**__**Hide and Seek**_

The wind gave away a slight whistle and sent a chill travelling up Ron's back when he stepped out in the streets. The latest week the snow had slowly, but surely, started to melt and it now looked like the spring would arrive this year as well. Avoiding a puddle of water Ron made his way down St. Abimelech Street. Even if the spring finally had decided to come it wasn't giving it away today, or the day before. It had been quite windy the past couple of days, although it didn't bother Ron. With the cold it was bringing there had hardly been any people out, which Ron found as a good thing, seeing as he could easily take his long walks without the chance of anyone running in to him or bothering him in any other way. No, the peace and quiet suited him perfectly.

Walking in the teeth of the wind, Ron wrapped his cloak tighter around him, but let the wind blow freely in his hair. His walking routine had started only a couple of months earlier. It made him feel less lonely and he had found it as a good way of relaxing and keeping his mind off his work. His job at the ministry was something that he enjoyed, quite frankly. Although it wasn't like he had expected it to be, but to be honest nothing of the life he had now was anything like he had expected it to be when he had graduated. But he really should have expected that, shouldn't he?

Wrapping his scarf round his neck and once again tightening his cloak around him he started walking. Turning right, when reaching Fulham Road, Ron walked slowly down Gabon Street. Down this road the wind wasn't blowing as hard as it had before and Ron cold now take his hand out of his pockets, though only in an attempt to blow them warm. When graduating from Hogwarts nothing had moved in the direction he had wanted them to. Harry had spent about a month, more or less, in St Mungo's. Hermione had started Healer training the same week Harry had been released. About a month after Hermione had left Harry had accepted the position as seeker for Wimbourne Wasps, so much for his dream of becoming an auror, Ron supposed that he wanted to have some fun for a change. Accepting that also meant that he was pretty much out of town most of the time. Ron had started working at the Ministry; to his surprise he had been offered a position as an Unspeakable, which basically meant that no one really knew what it was that he was doing. With Harry out of town and with Hermione studying he'd had a lot of time on his own.

Even though the first year had been real lonely he had kept himself occupied with work, and he had succeeded very well with that. After all Ron had a quite interesting profession. But he was still surprised by his own actions in that, seeing as he never thought he'd choose Hermione's way in making oneself to feel less lonely. But with Ginny graduating at the beginning of the summer Ron had spent time with his baby sister about once a week. But these days it had changed to about once a month, more or less. She had followed in Hermione's footsteps and had too started Healer-training.

But during this time, with both Ginny and 'Mione studying, they had both, somehow, managed to fit him in their busy schedule. They met up at least once a week, which Ron was extremely happy about. Hanging out with 'Mione was definitely something that he had missed, and that was something she had noticed as well. He was a lot happier with her around, and that was no secret. Whenever Harry was in town he arranged for the four if them to meet, so that meant that they got to meet up quite regularly too. Hanging out with both of his best friends, and his sister, was Ron's favourite thing to do. It was a lot more fun than working 24/7.

But of course, as everything else, it changed. The hanging out part decreased to less and less time. Although sometimes they would hang out pretty much everyday, and other weeks Ron wouldn't even see a glimpse of his best friends. Even though he still met up with Harry every time he was in town it wasn't the same. When he confronted Hermione about it she blamed it on her final exams. And this was something that Ron, half-heartedly, accepted. After all it was her last year in Healer-training, and she was Hermione. Believing that he would get too see her more when she had moved on from being a trainee to being an actual Healer, he let her be. Ginny too was occupied with studying and practicing the fine art of healing, but she also seemed to be able to fit in something else, or rather someone else.

About a year into Healer-training Ginny had seemed to finally forget about her childhood crush, or she'd once and for all given up on him, and started seeing a good-enough Healer-trainee. Ron had never really cared for the name Ewan, but seeing how happy that young man made his sister made him reconsider it.

The fact that Ginny had gotten herself a Ewan didn't surprise Ron too much, apart from the boy's name. But when Harry spilled it out to his best friend who he had hitched himself to Ron had, quite frankly, been taken by surprise.

_Ordering another bottle of butterbeer in wait for his best friend Ron studied the room. It was weird how one place could stay just the same whilst everything else in his life changed. The Three Broomsticks looked exactly the same as it had when he had first set his foot in there as a thirteen year-old boy. Ron smiled as he remembered the first time he and Hermione had set foot in the Hogsmead pub. The look of amazement in Hermione's face and how he had blushed when she had noticed him looking at her. _

_Taking a gulp of butterbeer he turned back towards the bar. Facing madam Rosmerta, who looked just as pretty as she had eight years earlier, Ron smiled and took another gulp. _

'_Waiting for young Mr. Potter, are we Mr Weasley?' came Rosmerta's voice from behind the counter. Ron smiled and nodded, revealing a set of white teeth. _

'_How's things with Hermione, dear?' asked Rosmerta as she leant down on the counter in front of Ron, resting her elbows on it. _

'_She's fine, I suppose,' said Ron quietly, taking another gulp of butterbeer. 'Studying hard as always, you know her.'_

'_I do, I do,' chuckled the bartender, noticing that the youngest Weasley boy was almost out of butterbeer she took out an unopened bottle from beneath the counter. 'She certainly is one of a kind, isn't she?'_

'_Yeah,' sighed Ron, Rosmerta handing him a newly uncorked bottle, smiled sweetly. _

'_Before you know it, it's too late Ronald,' came the words which was the cause of that moment's sweet smile. There was no time for Ron to ask what the bloody hell she had meant. Even though, deep down inside, he knew exactly the thought behind those words._

'_Hey mate!' Ron recognized the voice of his male best friend and turned around to face Harry. _

'_Harry,' came Ron's answer and motioned for him to sit down. Shaking his head Harry ordered himself a butterbeer from Rosmerta and then turned to Ron._

'_I was thinking we could get a table,' there was a pinch of seriousness in his voice and Ron nodded. _

_Walking towards an unoccupied table, both boys had their bottles in a firm grip. Sitting down by a table in one of the pub's four corners Ron could sense the seriousness even more. The one thing he couldn't tell was if it was a good serious or a bad serious. _

'_Would I be right if I said that there's more to this than just having a drink at the local pub?' there was even a tone of seriousness in Ron's question, which was a bit unusual. Harry nodded and brought the butterbeer bottle to his lips. _

'_What would you say if I told you that I've decided to get hitched?' said Harry suddenly, this time his eyes twinkled and he revealed a smile that would've given Sirius a run for his money. _

'_Hitched? You?' Ron tried to suppress a laugh. But Harry just smiled and nodded. Ron leaned back and took a sip of butterbeer before he asked; 'To whom? I mean, you didn't even tell me you were seeing someone.'_

_Harry's charming smile disappeared and his gaze fell. He had the look of a puppy that's done something bad. He sat silent for a while until he let his gaze wander up towards his best friends face. Ron shot one look at his best friend, and there was no doubt that the word 'sorry' was written all over his face. _

'_Hermione.'_

_As soon as the words had reached Ron's ears, his face fell. He let go of his bottle, he didn't even shift as it hit the floor. Ron didn't even react as it broke, or move a muscle when its contents flew all over the place. It was like he had just been hit by a stunning spell, he was speechless. How was this possible? Why? Why was Harry going to marry 'Mione? Why? He was staring into thin air; he didn't even notice a single one of all the sounds in the noisy pub. To him it was all quiet. He was in shock, for he had just found out the worst thing that he could possibly think of. Someone had snatched Hermione. _

_Without saying as much as a word to his best friend Ron got up, pushed his way through the crowd and without looking back he walked through the doors of the Three Broomsticks. _

Ron shivered at the thought of how the news had reached him, he shivered at the bare memory of finding out that out of every possible guy in the world, the one that had chosen to marry her, and the one she had chosen to commit herself to, had been his best friend.

He had now reached the Westening Bridge, and Ron stopped. Leaning down, resting his arms on the banister, he looked out, over the river. With the winter cold slowly drawing away the ice had melted, partly, and there were now ice blocks floating on the freezing water. It was a clear sign that they were on their way to leave the winter behind them, once again. Inhaling the cold air, letting it slowly make its way down his throat. Exhaling far too quickly the cold winter air stuck in his throat and caused Ron a cough attack.

'_I'm sorry Ron!' yelled Harry from somewhere behind the red-head. But the youngest Weasley boy continued to walk, ignoring the apology that his best friend had shouted after him. _

'_I'm sorry,' came Harry's voice again. This time not as loud, but you could clearly hear the sadness and the true regret fullness that was added to it. _

_Ron pulled his hand through his hair, and stopped. Before turning around, he seemed to have an inner battle with himself. But as he started to turn around Harry had started to run up to his best friend. Ron's eyes, filled of hurt, met Harry's. He could truly tell that Harry was indeed sorry for the situation he had put them in._

'_I'm sorry,' mumbled Harry, sounding truly honest. His gaze falling his mumbling continued. Not daring to meet his best friend's eyes while talking Harry kept his gaze firmly on the ground. 'I never meant to hurt you Ron, __**we **__never meant to hurt you. I'm an idiot, I know. But you know what it's like Ron, you of all people know what it's like. I fell for her.' During the end Harry's gaze had been rising slowly. But when it reached the level where he was able to see Ron's face Harry wished he'd kept looking at his feet.__He had never felt worse, not once. He wasn't looking into the face of his best friend; he was looking into the face of a man whose heart he had just broken. _

Ron was used to the coughing, the attacks came and they left, but they were usually not this bad. When it finally stopped Ron had tears in his eyes, but he couldn't really tell if it was from the coughing or from the memory. He cleared his throat and gazed over the river once again. Slowly letting his gaze travel up, towards the sky, he smiled slightly at the sight of two birds, chasing one another, playing. 

'_Well, it's hard not to, eh?' laughed Ron stiffly, the pain still showing in his face, the tears glistening in his eyes. He could try and do his best to lighten up the mood, he could make jokes, but that wouldn't make him forget, that wouldn't make him forgive. Harry laughed lightly, knowing that Ron had made the joke with a very heavy chest. The weak smile disappeared from Harry's lips and he got somewhat serious again, taking a shot._

'_I really do love her, Ron,' mumbled Harry, quite clearly, clearly enough for Ron to catch the words. Drawing a hand through his hair Ron's gaze fell. There was a moment of silence, Ron's gaze still focused on the ground. He took a deep breath, letting his gaze travel up, when meeting Harry's Ron broke the silence._

'_You'd better.'_


	2. To Be Alone With You

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
_

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter **__**2  
**__**To Be Alone With You**_

A strong breeze ruffled the young man's hair, and he smiled at the feeling of every molecule gliding through his fire like strands. The feeling of cold air hitting his face made Ron feel free, it was like it almost, almost, made all his worries go away, and that was worth a lot. A smile flickered across his lips as another breeze met his thin face. The moment the could air touched his pale, rather bony looking face Ron suddenly felt so sorry for all those people that didn't get a chance to, just once in their life, feel the touch of a cold spring air hit one's face.

While the wind calmed itself and the birds settled down in a tree top many feet away Ron found that he had been standing on the bridge for far too long, and started to make his way to the other end of it. It was rather chilly but not too bad, Ron didn't bother pulling his opened cloak tighter around him. What was the point?

Walking down Westening Bridge, reaching the other side of the giant bridge, a feeling of safety overwhelmed Ron as he set one foot on the firm ground. He didn't know why, he loved standing on that bridge, watching the water, the birds. On that bridge he was happy. Watching the young birds flying around reminded him of Hogwarts, the place where he had spent the best seven years of his life, the place where he had gotten to know Harry and Hermione. The amazing old castle was the place where he had learned his first real spell, made his first real friend, shared his first kiss, fallen in love and gotten himself his first _real _girlfriend. It was all pretty ironic seeing as all of those things involved one particular girl, one who had been haunting his every thought from the moment that he had looked at her as not just one of his best friends but as that girl, _that_ girl.

The sound of a strong breeze making its way through the top of the trees interrupted the young man's thoughts, if only for a second. When looking back at his life, his time with Hermione there wasn't many things that could take his mind off it. As he continued to make his way down the narrow path, leading away from the bridge, Ron's thoughts once again whirled around and landed on the same girl they always did.

He still remembered that day perfectly, every detail, every breeze, every scent, every movement, every shift in her voice, every shift in his.

_Big raindrops, and loads of them, fell down around the huge castle and the sound that they made as they smattered against the castle windows made the feeling of cold and darkness, the feeling of fall, overwhelm you. There was no question about it; the autumn had arrived, not a second too soon or too late, just in time. It was late in the afternoon of the rainiest Saturday so far and even though it was pouring down Ron and Hermione had decided to go to Hogsmead for the day. With Harry having a lot on his mind they figured a good day of just rest seemed like a good idea for him. With You-Know-Who being back and Harry still taking occlumency lessons, being busy with school and with DA he had a lot on his plate. Not to mention that he was still mourning Sirius' death. If that wasn't enough he knew that it was his job, his responsibility to defeat the Dark Lord, and having everyone's lives trusted in his hands way was too much responsibility for a sixteen year old boy. _

_As the two teenagers wondered the streets of the largest wizard town in Britain Ron couldn't help but to think that it was nice, besides the horrible weather, rain pouring down from the sky and clearly wanting to drown him, it was nice. Some quality time with Hermione, with one of his best friends, it was always worth being nearly drowned for. The best part about it was that the streets were extremely empty. Hogsmead was empty. They had already been in Zonkos and Honeydukes, there had pretty much been just the two of them there. They same thing went for some old bookshop, not that that surprised Ron, and for a couple of other shops that they had visited. Ron had felt surprisingly comfortable in her company, not that he didn't otherwise, but today it had been different, he didn't know how or why, it had just been different. Lately everything had been different. _

_They had been wondering the streets of Hogsmead for hours when they found themselves standing by the fence surrounding the one house that no one else visiting the village would go near on a dark and rainy afternoon, the wind whistling through the tree tops. The house was said to be the most haunted building in Britain, but Ron and Hermione knew the truth about the sounds having escaped the ramshackle looking house years ago, they knew not to be afraid. But there was something about that building, something that made them both think, something that had made their non-stop chatting stop as soon as they leaned against the fence surrounding the Shrieking Shack. _

_Ron cast a glance at Hermione, and by the look on her face, the way her mouth wasn't entirely closed, the way her eyebrows were raised slightly and by the way her eyes glistened from water welling up only slightly in them he knew what went through her head. Lately it had been the same for both of them, for all of them, the main thought running through their heads; what was going to happen?_

_He lowered his gaze and inhaled deeply before he slowly moved his right hand slightly and closed his fingers around Hermione's. Ron didn't look at her, but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth to move upwards a bit, revealing his white teeth slightly when she intertwined her fingers with his. Swallowing hard Ron lifted his gaze and looked at the old house in front of them, before turning his head towards his right, looking at Hermione. _

_As soon as his gaze had travelled up to her face Ron couldn't help but to smile. He was standing there, all alone in Hogsmead holding Hermione's hand in his. It was now drizzling, but Ron paid no attention to that. He wasn't even aware of the grin that had spread across his face, neither of the fact that he stroke his thumb gently over the back of Hermione's hand._

_But when she turned her head to her left and her eyes finally met his, after her gaze had been firmly focused on his shoes, he suddenly became aware of the fact that he had never been in love with her more. The way her chocolate brown eyes looked straight into his ocean blue ones, revealing only an inch of her soul and the way her lips curved into a shy smile when she looked at him. That moment he knew that he would never fall for anyone the way he had fallen for her. _

_Bending down his head slightly, closing his eyes a second after her, he leaned in. Thoughts he never had a chance to catch whirled around in his head. The only thought he had a chance to grab hold on was; "I'm going to kiss her, I'm going to kiss her…" With that one thought echoing in his head he leaned in more, he leaned in enough to feel her warm breath against his lips, and then he felt it. Drops, raindrops, more than he could count were falling down, hitting his face, his head, everywhere. It was pouring.  
_

'_Bloody hell,' muttered Ron, loud enough to drown the sound of the millions of raindrops hitting the ground, hitting every object in sight. Ron's very Ron-like comment made Hermione laugh slightly, revealing a set of perfect teeth. Ron couldn't help but to laugh along, it was just so typical. _

_Shaking his head, laughing, he looked at her. As she smiled at him, in a pause from the laughing fit, he smiled shyly and leaned in. The rush that went through his body as his lips met hers gave him the most perfect explanation to the meaning of the word "Love". _

As Ron found himself back in reality he couldn't help but to smile, not just at the thought that lay among his favourite ones, but at the rain that had started to pick up. Shaking his head, which made his wet hair throw drops of water at each way, Ron pulled his cloak tighter around him to keep the rain from watering down his sweater. Looking around the young man found that he had been walking for quite some time, having reached the further end of Charles Street, being situated fairly far away from the huge bridge.

Considering the fact that he had been walking quite a far distance, Ron pulled up his left hand sleeve to check his watch, which was placed on his left wrist. With the minute hand pointing between a bold three and four, whilst the hour hand was slightly past the bold one and cero that symbolized the hour ten, Ron decided that it might just be time to head home. Even though Ron didn't feel like walking back to his empty, but big enough, apartment, where his only company was the bloody owl that had survived out through the years, he knew he had been out far longer than he usually was. He may not be expected by anyone, not even Pig, but he had grown accustomed to some routines. But that's how it was when you lived by yourself, wasn't it?

Turning left by the statue of a great old warrior Ron continued down Severe Avenue, down the hill towards a narrow path leading through the few trees which went under the name the Demson Woods. As he passed a bench, placed by the end of the path, next to a light post, Ron figured that it would take him less than twenty minutes if he took the short cut through Mellow Street, crossing Halmth Square and continuing down Egmont Avenue and turning left at St. Abimelech Street.

Even though he had a warm apartment waiting for him, with the possibility to light a fire, Ron felt no need to hurry. The rain had started to gather speed even more and with it almost pouring down Ron just pulled his cloak even tighter around him and continued his walk in normal speed. His hair was soaking, the same went for his cloak and shoes, but he didn't care, he didn't notice.

As he walked down Mellow Street Ron knew that he would pass it, he would have to walk past that small café, and as he neared it he couldn't help but to stop. Standing by one of the medium sized, rather dirty, windows, hundreds and hundreds of raindrops hitting his hair, hitting the window, the streets, he looked inside. The moment he looked through the rain stained window his gaze fell upon the dark red loungers, situated in groups, around rather small mahogany tables. The small, beautiful tables were made out of the same dark wood as the small, even more beautiful counter. On each table there were single candles, each in a very simple, but still fancy, candlestick.

The one room café was now dark, it seemed to be closed, which wasn't entirely strange considering the hours. There was not a single living soul in the dark room, not even an employee who had to stay being and clean up a possible mess. No, no employees and no visible mess, not even a left out napkin or a coffee cup someone had looked past. Everything was neat, and perfect, as always.

It had always been his favourite café. It had that perfect size, not too crowded, and they had the most excellent hot chocolate. Standing there, by the window, Ron felt it all coming back to him.

_Suddenly Ron was back in his seventh year, he was seventeen again. The rain that had been pouring down on him, around him, had disappeared. The raindrops had now transformed into giant snowflakes, and the puddles of water covering the streets had been replaced with deep powdered snow. Still standing outside the brick walled coffee shop Ron looked into the now cosy looking café, which now had people warming it up, making it feel so welcoming. The red loungers still looked the same, the mahogany tables weren't the least bit different, neither was the counter. The candlesticks on the other hand looked newer than when he had looked into the window of the closed shop. _

_Everything about this scene was preserved perfectly in his mind, the way she had dragged him towards the café. They had been walking the streets, happy to get away from the worries that had been eating them up from inside, getting their minds on something else rather than the war. Giant snowflakes had been circling around in the sky; they had both been covered in them. The cold had started to get to them just as Hermione caught sight of it, and her face lit up. She had firmed her grip on Ron's hand and steered her steps towards the small café, dragging him with her._

_When Hermione had dragged Ron up to the window leading into the shop he studied it, he noticed how small it was, the very small amount of people that were inside and turned smiling towards his girlfriend. Ron took a firmer grip on her hand and dragged her towards him, making her twirl around, her hair graciously soaring as she spun towards him, ending up standing face to face with her boyfriend. The smile that was playing across her lips as she looked at him was somewhat the reaction he had been looking for when making his acceded attempt to spin her towards him. Hermione's free hand searched its way up Ron's chest and continued up around his neck where it stayed playing slightly with the tiny curls of his hair, whilst Ron's free hand found its way around Hermione's waist where it seemed to fit perfectly. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned down to place his warm dry lips on top of her pink ones, in a sweet short kiss, that easily could have deepened if Hermione hadn't broken away and made her way into the small café, dragging Ron, by the hand, after her. _

Still staring into the dark abandoned café Ron was brought back to reality by a sudden flash of light, which he soon realised was a struck of lightning, followed by a loud thunder. He inhaled carefully, to not get a cough started, sparing him minutes of endless coughing, and looked around. The rain was still pouring down and the streets where totally empty, not a single soul could be seen walking in the puddles of water that covered the cobblestoned streets. Suddenly Ron felt lonelier than before, suddenly he missed the snow-covered streets he had just visited, the small amount of people that had sat in the café, sipping their coffees, tea or hot chocolates, he missed the snow and he missed the feeling that he got whenever he was around Hermione, he missed the way she had loved him, he missed her.

Ron felt a warm feeling rushing through his body at the thought of the girl that he loved, the girl that had once loved him back. Turning around and, once again, facing the dusty rain stained window Ron once again found him in the snowy alley eight years earlier. It was just as though he had his own secret pensieve, carried with him everywhere he went.

_Leaning back in his large red lounger, making himself comfortable, Ron watched Hermione as she sipped her hot chocolate with a very satisfied look on her face. Her hair was no longer covered in snow and she had taken off her cloak, revealing her light blue, knitted, Weasley jumper that his mum had sent her for Christmas. Looking at her, sitting there, wearing her very first Weasley jumper, Ron couldn't help but to smile. Looking up Hermione seemed to notice him looking at her and she stopped sipping her chocolate and put her cup down with a questioning look on her face. Studying the grin that had spread across her boyfriend's face Hermione smiled charmingly and leaned forward. Putting her hands on top of the table she helped herself to lean forward close enough to Ron to kiss him firmly on the lips. _

'_Love you,' she said quietly, leaning her forehead against his before leaning back slightly and smiling mischievously, making a grin flicker across Ron's lips as he leaned forward and placed his lips graciously on top of hers._

'_Love you too,' mumbled Ron against her lips as the kiss broke, both of them smiling rather shyly as they leaned back, picking up their respective cups of hot chocolate. _


	3. Something Pretty

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter 3  
**__**Something Pretty**_

Ron found himself smiling in the dark alley of Mellow Street, standing in front of the same café that he had been facing for the last couple of hours, and to his surprise Ron noticed that the sun had started to set. The amazing set of colours that the sun made as it made its way down in the horizon spread over the houses and the sky. As the sun did its best to hide itself slightly the young red-haired man couldn't help but to loose himself in the mixture of colours that covered the sky. For a second he wondered if the sight was actually real and not a part of a daydream or just a figment of his imagination, but it seemed too real to be anything else. Ron let out a sight at the awareness that another day had passed, another day in his life had been born and died in the period of twenty-four hours.

It had stopped raining about an hour earlier, and the rain had clearly left a trace behind. The streets were still covered with rainwater big puddles of water covered the cobblestoned streets of Mellow Street. Before continuing his way towards Halmth Square Ron shot a last glance at the small old café and smiled at it, letting out a slow sigh and turned towards the open streets leading from the alley towards plenty of others, leaving the café behind him.

Hands in his pockets Ron walked slowly towards the crossing between Mellow Street, St. Johnston Street, Leach Alley and Egmont Avenue, his mind worked hard to not think of anything but the café he had just left behind him. The ways her eyes had twinkled when they had first walked in there, or the way she had smiled, revealing those horribly cute dimples, when she had tasted her first sip of their amazing hot chocolate.

As Ron reached the beginning of Egmont Avenue he could no longer shut the reality out and the feeling of cold started to sneak up on him. His cloak was starting to feel heavy and the wheeze in his chest was starting to grow louder. As Ron started to speed up he tried his best to think about anything else but how tired and cold he was. But with every step he took the cold rushed over him even more, and his dry throat begged for him to cough.

Trying his best to not give in to the begging coming from his throat Ron swallowed hard several times, doing his best to get rid of the irritating itchy feeling that occupied the insides of his windpipe. Breathing heavily, moving his left hand up towards his chest, loosening his scarf slightly, Ron leaned against the streets sign with the words; "_St. Abimelech Street_" on it, introducing him to the beginning of a new street. With his thumb and middle finger touching separate collar bones he clutched his chest, inhaling deeply.

Overcoming his loss of oxygen, and winning over the itchy irritation that had bothered his throat Ron straightened up, steadying himself by supporting his weight slightly on his right hand that was placed firmly on the street sign pole. Taking a deep breath he straightened up and let go of the pole, pulling a trembling hand through his now dry hair. Mustering all the strength he had Ron made his way up the hilly street, leaving the cobblestone ones behind him. With the nice pavement surface it was much easier and nicer to walk and Ron had soon enough reached the street door leading to the apartment building where he had his very classy apartment, his home.

Reaching for the keys, in his right-hand pocket, Ron's tired eyes searched for the keyhole in the street door. When finding the keys it didn't take long before he found the right one, not having more than four, maybe five keys to choose from, Ron took a hold on a medium sized silverish old key and put it in its lock. Turning it, sending out a clicking noise, and opening the large black door Ron stepped inside. He didn't even bother turning on the lights in the huge street door hallway, but walked towards the large staircases that led up towards the apartments.

After climbing four stairs Ron reached his floor, turning slightly to the right he pulled out his keys again. This time he took hold on a long old looking one. Before inserting it in the lock Ron looked around in the dark fourth floor hallway. Checking his watch he yawned slightly at the realisation of the late, or rather early hour. Turning back towards his front door he stuck the key in its lock and turned. As soon as the click noise reached his ears he pulled it out and pushed down the handle, letting the door glide open in front of him.

'_So, here we are,' said Ron almost shyly, as the door swung open in front of them, revealing a large hallway with a dark oak floor and dark red walls. Stepping inside he became very aware of its large size and smiled triumphantly at the realisation of it. Taking her hand in his he led her into the apartment. Walking through the hallway, past the huge kitchen, he stopped in a huge room with a bay window, light blue tapestry and light pine floors. Letting go of her hand he backed into the room, spreading his arm, like a bird preparing to fly. _

'_This is it, Gin,' he said smiling at his little sister that was gaping at the huge room, the huge apartment. Astonished by its size Ginny made a gasping sound in surprise and shook her head, bringing her hand towards her mouth. _

'_It's... it's huge, Ron!' she gasped and looked around in the room, looking at her brother asking for an approval. Laughing Ron nodded, smiling at his sister's reaction; it was just as he had hoped it would be. Grinning Ginny made her way up towards the nearest door, the only one on that side of the room, it was right next to the end of the hallway. _

_Ron turned towards the window that was facing the street below, outside. He could hear Ginny opening the door that led to, what was to be, his living room, and he could hear her let out another shriek, he supposed that she had spotted the fireplace. Hearing her coming out of the room Ron turned around and smiled towards his baby sister as she, without hesitation, made her way to the future bedroom. Opening the door she walked up the two steps outside the room before she entered and Ron could, once again, hear her letting out a gasp. But he didn't even have time to smile at this before she had stuck her curious head inside the bathroom, which was decorated by a large whirlpool bath in the upper right corner. The sound that she made when her eyes caught sight of that wasn't in any of Ron's noise categories. _

_Turning towards her brother she gave him a look that said; 'How the hell did you find this place?' Letting out a laugh Ron pulled his left hand through his fiery red hair and shrugged. Walking up to her brother Ginny hit him playfully on the arm, to punish him for the bargain. _

'_Ouch, that hurt!' shrieked Ron and rubbed his arm where she had hit him. 'Bloody hell you're strong… and you haven't even seen the kitchen yet,' he added, raising his eyebrows and smiling teasingly._

_Sticking out her tongue Ron watched Ginny make her way back towards the bathroom to look it over one more time, but there wasn't anything in there that she had missed, except for a shower cabin that was standing in the left corner, diagonally from the bath, that –yes, was still there. As she closed the door Ron, which turned back towards the street facing window, heard her opening, what he assumed, was the one right next to it. Taking a peak inside she spotted a toilet and two washbasins, Ron remembered that they had looked a bit classy. As she made her way towards the hallway, towards the kitchen door, Ron heard his sister mutter something like; 'Two hand-basins, why the bloody hell would you need two of them with only one toilet?!' _

Kicking off his shoes Ron took off his soaking cloak and hung it on the coat hanger, pulling a hand through his wet hair Ron walked past the kitchen door, only stretching his hand inside to turn on the light, and continued towards the living room. Then he made his way into the huge bay window room but turned left just by the beginning of it and entered his cosy living room.

He quite liked his living room; it was pretty dark, even though it had a large window facing the street below. But at the moment it was pretty dark outside, not strange considering the hours. Facing the large window there was a gigantic mahogany bookshelf that covered the entire wall, Hermione would have been proud. It was covered with books, and he had actually almost read them all. Of course there was still space left on a few shelves for him to cover with books.

Then there was his beloved fireplace. Ron had spent countless of hours in front of sparkling warm fires, reading or just simply watching the dancing flames play. He had his favourite deep red armchair placed in front of it, accompanied by a three seat sofa, also dark red. The room reminded him slightly of Hogwarts, of the Gryffindor common room, and he liked that.

Walking up to the fireplace Ron bent down, took a few logs from beside it and pulled out his wand. Flicking it slightly dancing hot flames appeared out of it and the fire was now playing, dancing around the logs.

Ron was tired and he could've fallen asleep right there in front of it but he had a feeling that he should get something warm down his throat as well, and he wasn't really in the mood for butterbeer. Hot chocolate suited him better.

Putting back his wand in his pocket Ron pulled of his wet sweater, and his soaked t-shirt and hung them up in front of the burning fire. On his way towards the kitchen he walked up two steps and walked in to his bedroom, grabbing a plain white t-shirt and his Weasley jumper that was thrown on the armchair in his down left corner, next by the window. As he pulled the itchy, but warm, sweater over his head he wondered down the steps and cast a quick glance through the heart of the room, the bay window.

_Turning around he walked over to the end of the hallway where the kitchen door was, Ginny had clearly already opened it and stepped inside. Following her Ron walked down the three steps and found himself in his new kitchen, it really was something. It was like the rest of the apartment, it looked pretty old, not too up-to-the-minute or too elegant, a bit Hogwarts style mixed with the Burrow, but still a bit classy and modern. Walking up to Ginny Ron placed his hands on her shoulders, and for some reason the smile that had adorned his lips minutes before where gone, and he had a feeling that Ginny knew that, because she just moved her left hand towards her right-hand shoulder hand placed it on top of his without uttering a word. _

_After minutes of silence Ginny turned around to face him. Ron recognized the look on her face, he had seen it before, at rare occasions, but he had seen it before. It was the same look that she had had when Harry ran off to find Voldemort, the same look as she'd had when she'd found out about Harry and Hermione, but not as intense as the look she'd given him when he'd told her that he and 'Mione had broken up._

_Ginny knew him better than most people, he supposed she knew him better than their mum even, and he had a feeling that there was a talk coming his way, a few questions that he'd rather not answer. It was always like that. _

'_It's not really what you want, is it Ron?' she asked, breaking the silence carefully, her brown eyes looking at him searchingly. Ron looked at his sister questionably, asking her to go on. _

'_This apartment, it's not what you really want,' she continued quietly, but louder than before, ' it's just further away, not as painful, not too close to what you really want. You shouldn't settle for the easier choice Ron,' she paused, eying her brother before she finished in barely more than a whisper, 'you deserve so much better.'_

'_I... I don't know what you're on about,' mumbled Ron, turning away from her searching eyes, avoiding the ending of her speech. He had a feeling about where she was getting, but he was in no mood to admit that she was right. He was too proud. _

'_Yes you do,' said Ginny, in a persuading tone, 'don't you think I know what you're going through?' Her question left her lips, travelling through the air for a millisecond, before reaching his ears. She'd said it in an almost angry tone, as if accusing him. From the moment that she'd uttered the words it didn't take more than a second before he shot back his answer. _

'_No I don't,' said Ron quietly, turning back to face his sister, 'I don't recall your best friend getting married to the love of your life.' At his words Ginny's face changed drastically, her eyes slowly starting to water and her bottom lip starting to tremble slightly. Her brother's words seemed to have a great impact on her; he seemed to have really touched a nerve. With her eyes brimming over with tears she looked up at him. _

'_But she is, Ron,' said Ginny, this time quietly, almost in a whisper. As the first word left her trembling lips the first tear escaped her eyes. _


	4. Honey and the Moon

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter **__**4  
**__**Honey and the Moon**_

Opening one of his many cupboards Ron quickly found what he'd been looking for, a simple cup. He knew all he'd really had to do was to reach for his wand in his pocket and flick it to have a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of him. But when it came to hot chocolate, he sort of liked the muggle way of making it. If it was because it reminded him of Hermione, he didn't know. All he knew was that flicking your wand, that didn't give it that special taste.

That certain urge for hot chocolate had only started the moment Hermione had introduced him to that old special café. Ever since she had brought him there he'd started to love the taste of the steaming cups of chocolate, not that he hadn't before, but that's when it had started for real. But he hadn't been inside that place since it had ended between them. The reason was too simple; he couldn't. Thinking about it he was surprised that was the case. The place reminded him of her so much that he really should have spent every possible second in there.

But being reminded of her, of how he'd lost her, it was just too painful. His sister had been right, no matter how much he tried to deny it, how much he hated to admit it; she was right, she had been. Finding the one place, in the one neighbourhood, that he couldn't, in any way, connect to her, he'd tried to escape.

So this was where he'd ended up, in a far too big apartment, alone, constantly brooding over her, his past, their past, and the possible future they could've had together. The point in it being none. The fear of moving on being as huge as the unwillingness and difficulty of getting over her. Getting over Hermione was, for him, impossible, it jut couldn't be done. He needed to cling on to this one light in his life, and if there was anything that he needed right now it was light.

Carefully cupping the cup of hot chocolate in his scarred hands Ron felt the steam of this reach his face and he could smell the lovely scent of chocolate reaching his nostrils. Slowly sipping the hot liquid he made his way back towards his common room-like living room in which the fire had started a lively dance in the fireplace.

Entering the, now warmer, room Ron made his way up to his favourite armchair, putting the still steaming cup down on the small table beside the deep red furniture, before sitting down himself. Inhaling slowly and carefully he leaned back, mentally assuring himself that he had, once more, made it home safe and sound, before, once again, grasping the hot cup. The cup somehow managed to assure him of this better than he himself had done and Ron slowly lifted his gaze from the extent of the cup towards the dancing flames, it only took a second before he saw it. He knew it was impossible, maybe he was imagining it, maybe it was due to lack of sleep, his eyelids were getting an awful lot heavier. But in there, in the fireplace, the flames were reining acting it all in front him.

_Sparkling flames were showing off, dancing hectically in the large fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, their clear reflection showing in his eyes. The fire being generally useless, considering the season, but the warmth that usually welcomed the summer break had yet to arrive. But maybe that was just the reason. For the past six years the summer break had been longed for, but this time, this time they had dreaded the day when they'd have to leave the school for good. Everyone dreaded it, going out in the real world, making a life of their own. They were now facing the challenge that they had been preparing for, for the last eighteen years._

'_Hey.' The sudden sound surprised him and he turned around fast, the anxious look on his face being traded to a shy smile when he noticed his girlfriend's sudden presence. His eyes slowly filled with a kind of calmness whilst he noticed hers' searching the room doubtingly. Ron gently placed his long fingers around her wrist and pulled her towards him, before, carefully, pulling her down beside him. _

_The way her searching eyes kept avoiding his immediately told him that something was wrong, but lately, with everything that had been going on, what hadn't been? There was always something troubling someone, but this time something was different. _

'_Hey,' he started questionably, his eyes constantly, desperately, trying to meet hers, 'Mione,' he hesitated as she swallowed hard beside him, her eyes fixed on the fire in front of them, 'what's wrong?'_

_While waiting for her to answer he noticed that her eyes had started to water, a lot of that had been going on lately, what with the war and all. And considering all the times that they had fought throughout the years, and with her ending up in tears at the end of most of them, you'd expect him to know how to handle a crying Hermione. But all those times didn't quite matter once a new set of water started to fill her hazel eyes. Ron was lousy in these kinds of situations, that was just pure fact._

'_Hey,' he began nervously, his right hand carefully travelling up to her neck, towards her right shoulder, preparing to squeeze it gently, whilst bringing her towards him in an one-armed hug, 'you know I love you, right?'_

_Before placing her head on Ron's shoulder he felt her nod silently, but the question of what was wrong was still hanging in the air above them, being carefully ignored by the girl in question. She needed time and he knew that, but with every second that was passing Ron was getting more and more worried, and a strange feeling was starting to take form in his stomach. Something was wrong, something was seriously wrong. _

'_Us.' The sudden answer, to the air-hanging question, made Ron shift in surprise and the weird inside-feeling of his grow an awful lot. She lifted her head from his shoulder, swallowing hard, before letting her eyes travel towards her feet. _

_After quite registering what it was that she had said Ron was having trouble breathing, trouble understanding where she was going with this one-worded answer, and dreading what was coming he searched her eyes once more. _

'_Wh... what are you… what are you saying?' he asked as he was taking short constant breaths, the mixed feeling of panic and anxiety doing a very good job whelming over him. He was trying to swallow, but couldn't quite go through with the procedure. She hesitated but turned towards him, their eyes meeting for only a second, before she looked away again. Ron had hardly ever seen Hermione this hesitant before and, frankly, it was freaking him out. _

'_Us,' she started, her voice trembling slightly, 'we're what's wrong.' She stopped, her eyes travelling up to his, meeting his, staying. He had a feeling where she was going with this, what she was trying to say, but the want to believe didn't exist._

_Ron opened his mouth, preparing to speak, and her eyes quickly darted. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, changing positions, turning to face him. Their eyes met and he knew. Her eyes were already apologising for what was to come. _

'_I love you, Ron,' she said sincerely, swallowing hard, 'but this, us,' she stopped for a second, biting her bottom lip, swallowing again, 'it's not supposed to be this hard,' letting out a shaky breath, 'it's not supposed to be like this.' _

'_What d'you,' Ron stopped for a second and looked away, giving himself that one second to collect himself, 'what do you mean?' His eyes were screaming for help, begging her to not break his heart, asking her not to do what she was doing. _

'_It should come naturally,' she started, but her hesitance took overhand, 'at first I was in love with you, I really was,' she continued, smiling due to the memory, 'you were so amazing, and so sweet to be around, I don't even think that I needed to be convinced,' she stopped, her eyes marking the truth in her words, 'I felt safe around you,' a hesitant smile decorating her face, 'I felt loved.'_

'_I think that after a while I couldn't really tell the difference,' she continued, still with a rather shaky voice, as if she knew what every word that she uttered would come to cause, 'I didn't really know if I was still in love with you or if I was in love with the situation; dating my best friend, having him love me back, more than anyone had ever done before,' she got up, a shaky breath and another lip-bite followed the pause, 'the situation was rather perfect, and that suited me.'_

'_But maybe,' Hermione continued, in the same shaky voice as before, as Ron's eyes continued the procedure of preparing a set of salty tears, 'maybe that's all we're supposed to be; friends, best friends.'_

_Turning around Hermione studied him with tear-filled eyes for a moment, before slowly walking towards him. As she reached him salty shining marks had made their way down her cheeks, and telling by her eyes there was no doubt that she wouldn't be walking away from the event without any scars. _

_When reaching him Hermione bent down slightly, stroking his cheek before cupping his chin in her right hand, she lifted his chin somewhat, before leaning in and placing her lips on top of his in a sweet soft kiss. _

'_I'm sorry Ron,' she said quietly, stroking his left cheek with her thumb, before turning around and slowly making her way towards the door. _

He awoke with a start. Rubbing his eyes, as he was doing his best to get back to reality, Ron stubbornly tried to suppress a yawn. His tired eyes wondered to the fireplace, the flames were dying out. He was getting cold. It was still dark outside and Ron didn't feel the need to know what time it was. The memory, her words, didn't seem to want to leave him alone. Not one day passed without a visit from the weird stomach-feeling at the bare thought of what she'd said. The words, her words, kept on echoing inside his head, he could still remember the sound of her voice, the look on her face. Ruffling his hair he ignored the next yawn, only to get up and stumble towards the fireplace, to get the fire going again, before returning back to his comfortable chair.

_Still staring into the fire, minutes and minutes later, Hermione's words were swirling around in his head. It was all a blur, it was all confusing. Friends? The two of them had never been just best friends, not even just friends. There had always been something more, something that definitely wasn't just friendship. _

'_Hey, mate,' came Harry's sudden voice. Ron slowly turned around, facing his other best friend, not even surprised at the thought of not noticing that the portrait hole had swung open and let him inside the common room. _

'_Hey,' said Ron as he turned back towards the fire, the flames clearly growing tired of dancing and deciding on getting some rest._

'_So,' Harry started as he made his way towards his best friend, choosing to sit down in the armchair next to him, 'where's Hermione?'_

'_Dunno…' answered Ron dejectedly, still staring into the dying flames in the fireplace._

_**Tears rolling down her cheeks she turned around with an attempt of a smile at the feeling of her female best friend's hand on her shoulder. Hermione's attempt of a smile failed miserably and Ginny didn't need to ask, she knew that her brother was involved in this; no one could ever make Hermione cry like this apart from her idiot of a brother. **_

'_**Hey,' said Ginny, almost in a whisper, as she pulled her best friend in a tight hug, 'come here.' Making sure that Hermione had calmed down, slightly at least, Ginny let go.  
**_

'_**So,' she began hesitantly, as she eyed her friend carefully, 'where's my prat of a brother?' **_

'_**I'm,' Hermione started, as she did her best to wipe her tears away, 'I'm not sure, really.'**_

'_Come on, Ron,' Harry lurked, trying to meet his best friend's eyes, 'I think you do know,' at this Ron's eyes met his and Harry knew that something had happened, his heart beating faster at the thought he continued in a shakier voice, 'come on, Ron, tell me.'_

'_Library?' Ron answered questionably with a shrug, before lowering his gaze. _

'_**Come on, Mione,' Ginny started carefully, not wanting to upset her again, 'you must have some idea where he is?'**_

'_**He could be anywhere,' Hermione started distantly, avoiding her friend's eyes, 'you know that.' **_

'_**Yeah, I know,' answered Ginny, clearly noticing that something was rather wrong, Hermione usually wasn't this distant after fighting with Ron, and that was quite often, 'but you must have a guess?'**_

'_Library?' Harry repeated questionably, highly doubting Ron's answer, 'that's too simple, you know that.'_

'_If you say so,' Ron shot back with an extreme lack of energy, definitely not on of Ron's top snort comment, with some afterthought he added, 'genius.' _

'_**He could be in a classroom on the fifth floor, that's where he first held my hand,' started Hermione, along with another set of fresh salty tears, 'or he could be in the Great Hall, that's where I first gave him a peck on the cheek,' she continued, smiling slightly at the memory, 'or he could be in Hogsmead, by the Shack,' she pasued, swallowing hard, 'that's where we first really kissed.' **_

'_Ron?' Harry asked worriedly, eyeing his best friend's distant expression. _

'_Yeah?' asked Ron, his eyes shooting up at Harry's. _

'_**Mione?' Ginny asked her best friend quietly, as she, once again, put her arms around her. **_

'_**Huh?' asked Hermione, returning back to the present. **_

'_Where is she?' Harry asked stubbornly, worriedly. _

'_**Why are you here?' asked Ginny as she let go of her friend, staring into Hermione's eyes. **_

'_Down by the lake,' answered Ron silently, his eyes meeting Harry's for a second, before wondering back to the floor. _

'_**This is where he first told me that he loved me,' answered Hermione as she turned towards the still water. **_

'_Ron,' Harry started, starting to feel slightly sick at the thought of the pain that his best friend seemed to be in, 'what happened?'_

'_**Mione,' Ginny began, stroking her best friends arm in an attempt to get her attention again, 'what's wrong?'**_

'_It's over.' _

'_**I broke up with him.'**_


	5. End of the Road

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter 5  
**__**End of the Road**_

The sun was desperately making an attempt to make its way through the drapes, whose job was to do everything in its power to keep just that bit of sunshine out of the room, a job that it was clearly failing miserably. As soon as the few strays of light found his tired eyes he left the land of sleep behind him. He wasn't at all ready for another day, he never was, but what choice did he have?

While trying to stifle a yawn, that was clearly on of the unstifable ones, Ron rubbed his eyes. After the few, short, hours of sleep he had been able to catch the previous night his condition wasn't anything to be at all existed about. Eying the room groggily his eyes landed, as if by a reflex, on the fireplace. By the looks of it the fire must've just given up, and Ron knew that it was only a matter of time before the sun would too go the same way. That's just the way it was, the few times that the sun chose to appear it didn't last very long and the dark clouds, filled with heavy rain, soon took the overhand.

But being Ron this day's thunderstorm would stop him just as much as the previous day's one, and the one before that, as well as the day before that. This procedure could be clarified with three, very simple words; Not. At. All. Just like every other day it would only take him until after breakfast before he would practically run outside, just to get away from the trapped feeling of indoors. No rain or thunderstorm, as well as snowstorms for a matter of fact, could stop him. He was Ron – the trapped man.

He of course knew that him being outside, taking a several hours-long walk and during that time having tons of cold water falling down on him, this combined with three or four strong breezes blowing at him from the same amount of different directions wasn't the best combination in the world. But on the other hand, what did he have to lose?

While asking himself this repeated question several times, over and over again, he'd have a picture-perfect-mind-blowing-can't-really-believe-this-isn't-for-real mental image of _her_, with one hand stuck right up in midair, as if trying to seize something which seemed to be placed somewhere among the stars, just to show the professor in question that this time, just like every single time before, she knew the answer to the question having been asked. And he could bet every single galleon in his vault that she knew the answer to this one as well.

Nothing.

He carelessly let his right hand travel across his chin and cheek, before letting it wander towards his hair. The feeling of his morning stubble, combined with his fairly clean hair settled it.

Grabbing a cloak that he'd clearly tossed on the floor some time ago he took a few long fast strides across the room, turning to the hallway and with one hand on his wand and the other one grabbing the keys on the small table that was placed in the hallway he strode out of he apartment, closing the dark door behind him. Ron took hold of the old silverish one, finding it much faster than the night before, probably because of the lighting combined with the earlier hour. Inserting it in the lock, turning it, waiting for the clicking noise, and quickly extracting it. Leaving the door, the apartment, behind him while rushing down the stairs, out of the front door, leaving the building behind him.

"_I'm sorry..." Harry's words were ringing in his ears, the look on his so called best friends face was printed into mind but most of all, the feeling of abandonment was echoing inside of him. Ron couldn't stand it. He most of all did not want it to be true; he begged it to not be true. But the look on Harry's face had told him everything he did not want to believe. The chance he'd thought that he still had, somewhere, was clearly gone. He was losing her. He was losing her to the man calling himself his best friend._

_Feeling a few wet marks on his face Ron knew it'd only take second until he wouldn't be able to separate the sweet rain from his salty tears. _

_She'd been the one, she was the one, he was sure of it, always had been. Clearly something about this so called order in the universe was messed up. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The love of your life isn't supposed to marry your best friend, and your best friend is definitely not supposed to marry the love of your life. _

_Making his way down some street that he normally knew the name of he was being proved right. It was now impossible to tell them apart; the sweet rain, falling from the carefree, but dark, clouds, or the salty tears, falling from the eyes of a troubled hurt young man. _

_She'd always been the one with the answers, always. Even if she hadn't had them right away she'd always found one way or another to figure them out. She'd have the answer. But right now she was the one person he couldn't ask, and still the one person he trusted would have them. _

_It had been hard for them, going back to something they'd never really been in the first place. But they'd tried, he'd tried, and somehow, despite everything that told them the impossible, they'd become "friends". But with their history, them being them, it was an impossibility to share that kind of friendship that he had with Harry or she had with Ginny. You can't be friends with your ex, that's the unwritten rule. _

_He now knew that he should have followed it. Now it was too late._

Heavy raindrops were falling from the sky, proving him right, as always. He knew his weather, at least he had that. Ron strode across the street, avoiding several puddles of water along the way, before slinking into a small coffee shop. He was tired. He was cold. He needed coffee.

_The last thing he wanted was to talk to her, but she was Hermione so the one thing he wanted more than anything was to talk to her. But he knew for sure that he'd rather die than seeing **him**, talking to **him**, so he avoided her place, or their place, whatever it was. He avoided **them**. He avoided Ginny. He avoided everyone. He'd been doing it for the last three hours, and he was brilliant at it. _

_With the rain pouring down he decided that it was time to head home. Sure he had nothing to live for now that the light of his life had abandoned him for his "best friend" and getting pneumonia was an easy way of ending it all in something that wouldn't be looked at as a suicide attempt. And sure his heart **was** broken into tiny tiny pieces, impossible to glue together again. And yeah, he could walk the streets for a few more hours, clearing his head, going over the scene a few, hundred, times more in his head and honestly it was rather tempting. But truth to be told, he was cold. He was cold and he just wanted to go home._

_He was closing in on his apartment building when he noticed the dark figure on the steps in front of the front door. Figuring that it was one of the renters in the building that, for some reason, had forgotten their key, or having been locked out for some other reason, he strode up to the apartment, a few more steps and he'd be there. That's when he noticed._

_She was soaking wet, but it was her._

'_Hermione?'_

Ron's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of thunder, which was followed by a strong breeze, steering the heavy rain right in his face. Taking a deep breath while pulling the cloak tighter around him Ron took the final steps towards a nice hot cup of coffee.

_She looked up at him, soaking wet, her hazel eyes apologizing before her uttering the words herself. Ron ignored the eyes, which with one begging look could make him do almost anything. He let out a long shaky breath while pulling his left hand through his wet hair before lifting his gaze towards her face. _

'_What are you doing here Hermione?' he asked her in barely more than a whisper. He had been right, the last thing he needed was to see her._

'_I'm sorry, Ron,' she answered, her too in something barely louder than a whisper, 'I'm so so sorry.' By the look on her face, just like when Harry had apologised, he knew she meant it. She meant every syllable of the apology which almost made it worse, it made it real. She'd hurt him and she'd been aware of it. _

'_Why are you here?' he asked her again, he wanted an answer and he was making sure he'd get one. Her eyes was starting to water, his had been red for the last few hours._

'_He told you,' she answered simply, eying him, her friend, former boyfriend, her best friend's brother._

'_And?' Ron's voice was very cold, he was distant by choice. It was time for him to prove his point and she was making it real hard for him to do just that. She was taken by surprise by his coldness, it wasn't at all like him. He hadn't treated her like this since, since she'd broken his heart the first time. _

'_I was going to tell you, Ron,' she started, hesitantly but certain to continue, 'I was, but,' she stopped, searching his face, 'but I didn't know how,' Hermione stopped again, this time to try to swallow the big lump that was starting to take form in her throat, 'I couldn't stand the thought of hurting you like that again, Ron, once was enough, two times,' she paused, 'two times are two times too many.'_

_Ron looked up, meeting her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, closing it again before looking away. He couldn't do this, not now. But he knew he'd have to face the music sooner or later, so why not sooner? He let his eyes meet her again, letting her see the hurt he felt. _

'_Then why?' he asked simply, quietly but simply while he was taking a seat beside her on the cold wet stone stairs. He swallowed hard while searching her eyes, he needed to know, but he didn't know if he could handle it. _

_His voice had been hesitant and he could tell that she'd noticed that. She immediately avoided his eyes, her gaze wandering to some distant place down the street. That's when he noticed that the rain was still pouring down, it was doing to her what it had done to him; mixing out the salty tears with its sweetness, but that's all it was doing, neither one of them could get any wetter, they were both soaking._

_When she turned her gaze towards him, let it meet his, she didn't really have to say anything. There was something about those eyes, maybe that's why he loved them so much. They say that a picture says more than a thousand words, but her eyes, her eyes said more than a million words, they said it all. _

'_Because I love him.'_

_He'd lost her. _

Setting foot inside the coffee shop Ron walked straight up to the counter, ordering a coffee to go, while having the waiter looking at him as if he was an total idiot. No sane person orders a coffee to go when the rain is pouring like mad outside. No sane man does that. But on the other hand, no sane man rushes outside to take a several hours-long walk in the pouring rain. After being handed a hit cup of yet black coffee Ron paid the sixteen-year-old in charge and headed back out, the rain still pouring down.

_The silence between them was tense, unbearable. They had a history, everyone knew that, but now it was clearer than ever. Swallowing hard Ron turned his head looking at the front door, leading into the dark apartment building, before letting his gaze search the even darker sky. As if ignoring everything that had happened during the previous few hours he got up. Standing right in front of her he took a deep breath, gathering the last bit of courage that he needed. _

'_You're soaking,' he paused for a second, smiling weakly at her, 'you're going to catch a cold,' he continued, still with that weak smile which was somewhere between meaning it and making a real hard attempt to mean it, 'let's get you into some dry clothes,' he finished, offering her his hand. He knew it was cheesy and he knew that it was probably one of the geekiest things he'd ever said to her, but he didn't know what else to do. He was not going to lose her all in all. _

_Hermione swallowed hard, eying him. He felt her eyes searching his face, searching for an answer for a question she hadn't really been able to form yet, before carefully placing her small hand in his. _

_Ron took hold of it, carefully dragging her up towards him, catching them both by surprise when pulling her up a little to fast, making her land directly in his arms. The last time they'd been like this…_

'_Come on,' he stuttered awkwardly, letting go of her hand and placing his own on the small of her back, helping steering her towards the door, 'it's bloody pouring.' _

With the paper cup centred between his two cold hands Ron sipped it carefully, careful not to burn his tongue, he'd learned that from previous mistakes. He was already soaking and he could feel that his throat was itching. Hoping the coffee would help he continued sipping it. But this time, just as every time he'd tried it before, it didn't work. Turning his head away from the cup he gave in to the itching and prepared himself for the first cough attack of the day.

_Searching in his pocket, desperately, trying to find the key Ron finally found it, opening the door in front of him, letting her slip inside before him. While following her up the stairs, Hermione clearly leading the way up the two stairs before stopping in front of the door to his apartment, Ron shook his head to himself. What in the name of Merlin was he doing?_

_Reaching the door, reaching Hermione, Ron smiled weakly. The smile was an attempt to make something out of the bit of him that wasn't tired, hurt or overwhelmed with the feeling of betrayal. He fumbled with the keys, the weak attempt of a smile still showing, before inserting the right on in the look, turning it and letting Hermione inside his excuse of an apartment. The apartment she'd been in so many times sometimes he wondered if she knew the inside of it better than himself. This time she looked lost._

_Ron closed the door behind himself, kicking of his own shoes before helping her of with her cloak. She shifted uncomfortably, but she let him. She let him help her of with her cloak, she let him lend her some of his way too big clothes and she let him make her a cup of hot chocolate before showing her to the familiar sofa. He let her let him. _

_They both knew that they needed to talk, but neither one of them had the energy to. Neither one of them could bring themselves to open the topic again. Instead they sat there, him in his armchair, the brown shabby armchair, and her in his matching sofa, sipping their hot chocolate. They were both making a rather successful attempt to ignore the deep tension that hadn't really hung in the air like this for the past few years._

'_Thank you,' said Hermione, in barely more than a whisper, breaking the thick silence between them. She was now the one making an attempt to smile, an attempt which didn't succeed all that well. Ron looked up, responding her weak smile with one of his own._

'_What are friends for?'_


	6. Goodnight and Go

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter **__**6  
**__**Goodnight and Go**_

Trying to recover from his recent attack Ron leaned against the nearest light post. It smelled an awful lot like it had been visited by several dogs over the years. His eyes were burning and Ron had a feeling that his constant fever still didn't feel like giving him a break any time soon. You'd think that he was getting used to it, but it still surprised him how weak he felt every single time. If it was the fever, the attacks or the memory of his two best friends, he didn't know.

Closing his eyes Ron breathed, deep and careful breaths, while trying to get his focus back. He had a long way to go, and he needed to get there as soon as possible, before it was too late. It wasn't really a matter of time in the aspect of hours, minutes and second, nor in the aspect of weeks, months or years. It wasn't really about time in the aspect of _time_ whatsoever. Ron found it hard to even grasp it himself, what he meant by it. Even though he couldn't really put it into words he knew what he meant. It had always been like that, even though he himself knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling, he'd always found it troubling, difficult, to put these feelings or thoughts into words. Actions was more his field of playing.

Field. Ron smiled weakly as his thoughts wondered to Quidditch. It had been such a long time since he'd been on a broom, since ha had played. Nowadays he couldn't even bring himself to watch, he just didn't seem to have the strength for it anymore. His strength was slowly dripping away, his time was running out and he was frighteningly so aware of it. He wanted more, he wanted more time.

Ron could feel the fever making its final kick; he was getting dizzier, and even the steady light post couldn't help him enough. He reached towards the inside of his robes, his fingers searching frantically for his wand. The sweat was really starting to break loose; the cold sweat. All of Ron's concentration was focused on trying to stand up straight, or standing up at all, and not letting his legs give up underneath him. His knees were slowly trying to tell him that this was it; they simply couldn't hold him up any longer. But being Ron Weasley, being the most stubborn person on the face of the earth there was no possible way that he was going to listen to the screaming pain coming from his weakening knees. Closing his eyes Ron put some of his focus on keeping his breathing calm and even – a sudden and harsh cough attack could be the end of it all at the moment. With his eyes closed, his breaths growing calmer and more even by the minute, the pitch black surroundings that met his eyes as they had closed were slowly changing. Still trying to muster the strength to stand up, by the help of the light post, the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile as he viewed the clear image on the inside of his eyelids.

_Walking. Taking long walks through Hogsmead and London, through the Hogwarts grounds and Ottery St Catchpole, that had been one of their things. Bickering had been another, and, after several years, snogging had topped the list as well. But this time, the first in many months, was different from the rest. Sure, they were walking, side by side, through the red, orange and yellow landscapes, the leaves moving together with the wind, but there was something hanging in the cold autumn air that hadn't quite been there before. Sure, for years there had been tension, but not like this. Back then the tension was the result of years of longing, years filled with heartbreak and crushes. Back then the tension was making them feel tingly inside, making them unsure of what to say, what to do, making them freakishly aware of where their hands were – inches from one another's. Now, now the tension was the result of broken love, newfound love and awareness that the loss of friendship was at stake. Now the tension that was lingering over their heads, fighting desperately to not be taken by the wind, was a result of unsaid things that they knew would affect their friendship in an entirely different way than before. There was no tingling; there was only the uncomfortable awareness of what was waiting and of what had once happened. _

_They had been walking for minutes, minutes that would soon turn into hours, and neither one of them had uttered as much as a syllable, much less words. Ron was becoming aware of the few inches of air that separated his hand from hers, and even though he wanted nothing more than to move his an inch or two and close his fingers around hers, he knew he ought not to. That time had passed. He kept his gaze steady, concentrating on the trees and grounds before them. His mind was completely blank – there were no words whatsoever. _

_He had stayed up half the night planning every word he wanted to say, every sentence that had been left untouched since the breaking of his heart. He had known exactly what he wanted to tell her, what he needed her to know. Ron had even known in what order he would tell her this, which words he was supposed to use and in which order he was to put them. That was until he'd woken up, seen her standing in his kitchen looking more uncomfortable than ever. At that moment they didn't need words to express the heartache that they both were feeling. Ron hated this, he hated that he couldn't just bring himself to tell her what he wanted to. There had been a time when bickering, screaming, yelling and fighting had been their thing, now there was only tension and the silence that came with it. _

_Ron looked at his watch, at the planets and stars that were circling around. Hours, they had just gone from minutes to hours. Someone, either one of them, had to be the first to speak. It seemed as though Hermione had been dwelling on the same thing for stopped, grabbing Ron's left arm and making him stop with her. He looked down at her, his bright blue eyes lowering and meeting her beautiful deep brown ones. They fitted rather nicely with the surrounding colours. The water that was making them shine sadly in the autumn sun, and the sadness and honesty that was filling them up to the brim were making his heart ache. If it was because of what had happened or what was to happen, he didn't know. _

'_I'm so sorry, Ron.' _

_The sentence had been uttered way too many times during the past twenty-four hours, and he didn't like it one bit. Nor did he fancy the fact that the honesty stayed and almost grew with every time someone uttered the four horrible words. Along with every time the fact became more and more true. _

'_Mione-' Ron started sadly, wanting to tell her that he didn't want to hear it, he simply didn't want to make this horrible nightmare turn into reality. But he was cut off by Hermione who was shaking her head sadly, her eyes brimming over with salty tears, the deep brown shade almost losing its amazing depth. _

'_I know that you deserve an explanation,' she started, stumbling over the words. Ron knew that she didn't really know where she was going with this, at all. But that didn't seem to stop her, by the look on her face he knew that she needed to get this off of her chest, she needed him to know, all of it. 'But to be honest, I don't really think there is one,' Hermione swallowed hard and looked around before she continued, 'I guess it sort of happened, I know,' she said, as she tried to smile, 'it doesn't really sound like me does it?' Ron shook his head slowly, silently begging her to stop. 'But it happened, and we let it happen,' she looked away from Ron, not daring to meet his eyes, 'we didn't tell you, and I am so sorry,' her voice broke._

'_Would you please stop saying that?!' _

The little strength that his body seemed to have been saving for that special occasion was finding its way back to him. His breathing had returned to normal and his knees were able to keep him standing straight. A few more moments and he would be able to let go of the light post. He kept his eyes shut, wondering if what he was feeling was rain or snow making emergency landings on his, once, fiery red hair. Nowadays the once bright orange red hair had turned into a slightly more darker shade, making him look much older and a lot more mature. He kind of missed the bright colour his hair had once had, he missed the naivety and innocence that he'd had back then. Back then when things hadn't been that complicated by far.

_Hermione's eyes met his, she didn't flinch nor did her eyes show any change in emotion – there was still the very firm and honest sadness that was filling them with tears to the very brim. She blinked, still not letting a single tear escape._

'_You keep on bloody saying that you **didn't mean it**,' Ron started, his rage, his fury, his anger and irritation over Harry and Hermione's complete lack of judgment was growing by the second, 'just, don't, **don't**,give me that shit! You're getting bloody married, you sure as hell must have **meant it**!' _

'_Ron-' but Hermione's attempt to cut in was completely ignored. Ron's anger flashed in his bright blue eyes and for a second Hermione winced – she'd never seen him like this. Of course she'd seen him mad, or angry, she'd seen him ready to kill, but there was something different about it this time. There was something more in his eyes, something else. _

'_For years, **years**, I thought, no I was convinced, that there was something going on between the two of you,' his voice was calmer, but the anger was still more then noticeable, 'but then you chose **me**, you **finally chose me**, and then I had it, black on white, I was the one.' His voice faded, but quickly found strength again, this time the anger was fainter and instead hurt and disappointment filled his tone. 'I was the one you were going to spend the rest of your life with, I was the one – I felt it, every time I looked at you I felt it,' Ron swallowed hard, making sure his eyes stayed fixed at her, wanting her to know he meant it all, 'I was going to marry you.' She blinked, and this time the salty water in her eyes went over the brim and as she blinked she made it possible for the first tear to make its way silently down her rosy cheek._

'_I thought so too, Ron,' she said quietly, her voice was not an inch above a whisper and if he hadn't focused all of his attention on her at that moment he was sure he would have missed it, he was so taken by surprise by this statement that he let her speak, 'I really thought that it was you and me till the end, I was convinced of it,' she wiped away the second tear, 'and I honestly have no idea why I ended it with you,' Ron's reaction to this was only a mere blinking with his, what it seemed, even bluer eyes. He wasn't really sure that he wanted to hear this, hear of their wasted years post the ending of the time when he'd been the most happy. But he didn't say anything, he blinked once more as he was trying to remember to breathe. A sudden realisation of how the warm sunbeams were positioned just perfectly, glowing just behind her on the left. Ron studied her features, her wonderfully wavy brown curls, her watery eyes and the emotions they reflected. He watched the few tiny freckles that were centred around her nose. She was so beautiful. She was Hermione, and she was so beautiful. 'I regretted it the moment I did it.'_

'_Then why?' Ron's voice was at the verge of breaking, he swallowed hard and as if it was his way of emphasising this question he finally let himself touch her, putting his hands on her shoulders and letting that far too familiar feeling travel all the way through his body, 'why?'_

_He didn't need to evolve the questions more thoroughly, she knew what he meant, they knew each other well enough for her to know that what he wanted to know why she hadn't taken it back, why she hadn't told him this from the start, why she'd even done it in the first place. He wanted an answer. But Hermione simply shook her head, and as a reflex Ron moved his left hand towards her face, touching her still more closely and with a simple stroke with his thumb he broke the way of a tear that had started its journey down her cheek. Their eyes met again and this time there was no anger, no rage, visible in his deep ocean eyes. There was no need for words, they'd been here, just **here**, before - looking into each others eyes, knowing exactly what to do. Ron lowered his head, Hermione tiptoed slightly, and their lips met. It was all so natural; his hands found their places, hers found theirs, and they were back to the way it was supposed to be. If only for a few minutes. _

'_I still love you.'_

'_I know.'_


	7. All Kinds of Time

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to __Bloomsbury__ Books, Scholastic Books and __Raincoast__ Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter 7**_

_**All Kinds of Time  
**_

It was with some difficulty that Ron accepted that his cough had gotten the better of him and he slowly turned around to face the empty street that was leading back to his apartment. Leaves covered the cobblestoned street and the rain had started to gather speed. Letting out a rather steady but small gulp of air Ron steadied himself for the walk home. His eyes were still not the only thing that was burning, even though he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was burning up. But he was getting used to the returning fever, the high temperature he had no problem with, it wasn't the sweating that was the issue – it was the shakiness that it brought with it. He had beaten it only seconds before, being able to stand up straight while letting the highpoint of the fever pass. But, like so many times before, he knew that he didn't have more than a few minutes before the second batch kicked in. He had sworn to himself not to do it, he had made himself a silent promise to do it the right way – alone, without magic. Nevertheless, this time the second kick seemed to hit him even stronger than the first and he closed his fingers tightly around his wand and apparated.

When he hit the floor of his living room Ron was already on his knees. There was no point in fighting it, the fever always beat him, no questions asked. With a shaking hand he pointed his wand at the fireplace, and within a nanosecond there was a roaring fire burning. Ron shot it a weak look before crawling up to the deep red armchair that was places before it. He didn't have the strength to take off his cloak, nor the strength to kick off his shoes. With his sweaty ginger hair hanging down in his eyes he watched the dancing flames, managing to keep his eyes half-open, letting them reflect the golden flames dancing around the soon black logs.

Maybe it was the fever, maybe he was going crazy or maybe he was already asleep. But he was convinced that he'd just seen Hermione. Ron let out an attempt of a frown – it wasn't at all possible for it to have been her, no way. He shook his head, more to himself than the fire. However, when closing his eyes he saw a spot-on-perfect image of her – as he always did when letting his eyelids rest. Every freckle was in the right place, every strand of hair was fallowing the winds sudden movements as if it was for real. Ron smiled to himself, if only it was, if only she was there for him to touch, to hug, to kiss. If only she was there, for real. At the realisation, at the thought, Ron felt the Goosebumps travel all over his body. But he was prepared, it was just like any other day after all – he'd do just about anything to have her there beside him, stroking his hair, telling him that despite it all he'd be fine. Ron let a smile flicker across his lips, truth to be told; right now her presence was the one thing that could make it all seem at least close to fine. With that thought passing through his mind, Ron finally closed his eyes and gave in to the fever and the exhaustion, and drifted off to sleep.

_The early spring sun had started to make its way through the drapes that Ron, so stubbornly, had closed, for this reason only. He had a splitting headache and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse by adding some bright and shiny sunshine to it all. For some reason he had been feeling drowsy for days, taking time off from work, for the first time since he'd started, he wandered the two rooms of his apartment in his sweatpants and an old Cannons t-shirt. He hadn't taken a shower in days, so the lack of company was, on their part, only positive. Nor had he had any decent meals whatsoever – making him look even ganglier than usual. As a result of not shaving for a few days he now had the visible beginning of a stubble creeping from his chin and u towards the, now visible, sideburns._

_Ron's red and swollen eyes darted up as the sound of an owl made its way to his ears. Searching the landscape if apartment buildings before him he found that there was not an owl in sight; there were pigeons, loads of pigeon, but not owls. He shook his head frantically, rubbing his tired eyes with his rough hand sighing heavily. Slowly dragging his feet across the floor Ron made his way into the, now, shabby excuse for a kitchen. Once, once it had been the greatest kitchen ever. Hermione would drop by in the evenings, they would cook a half-decent meal together and they would sit down and eat and chat. But his favourite kitchen time was when Hermione, at least once a week, dropped by with breakfast in the morning. He loved those days, when the sight of her was the first thing he saw that day._

_Staring angrily at the kitchen table Ron sighed, he just couldn't believe that even how hard he tried not to think about her his thoughts always kept leaping back to her. Even if the prospect of her was miles away from whatever topic he was silently discussing with himself – the thought of her always managed to make its way in to the conversation. Reaching for his well-used Cannons-cup Ron poured some coffee into it, before turning to the refrigerator to look for some milk. Reaching for the milk cartoon and picking it up Ron frowned at himself. He'd once again left an empty cartoon of milk in the fridge. If Hermione had dropped by she'd be sure to have brought some fresh milk with her, she always did, knowing that that was the one thing that he always seemed to forget. Ron slammed the refrigerator door closed; he'd done it again._

_Bringing the orange cup of steaming hot coffee to his lips and sipping it, Ron reached slowly at his pocket. Closing his fingers around the rough and beaten edges of, what seemed to be, an old piece of parchment, Ron brought it up from the right-hand-side pocket of his well used sweatpants for him to study, for the thousandth time that day. Like those other nine hundred and ninety-ninth time that day he felt a far too familiar feeling in his stomach, an invisible punch making him breathless in a very horrifying way. This was fallowed by a rather stingy sensation in his, already, red eyes, as well as feeling of complete emptiness filling his entire being. Looking at the only days-old parchment he read the curly letters, printed in a very familiar shade of emerald green._

**_Ronald Weasley_  
****_The pleasure of your company is requested  
at_****_ the marriage of  
Hermione Granger  
_****_and  
_****_Harry Potter  
_****_On Saturday, the sixteenth of July  
at_**_** two pm  
at St Luke's Church, London  
and the reception afterwards at  
The Three Broomsticks  
at**** six pm**_

_It was just like Hermione to have a muggle ceremony, and a non-muggle reception. Ron sighed, trying to shake away the feeling that had become a part of him during the last few days. How did they even have the nerve to invite him? Did they even really want him there, or was it just **the right thing to do**? He would easily have bet his money on the second alternative out of the two, which didn't make it feel at all better. He'd gone over this a million times in his head, always coming back to the same conclusion; there was no way in hell that he was going to attend that wedding, period. Nothing could change his mind on this one; he was not going._

Ron was shifting in his sleep, turning to every way possible in the small, but still quite big, armchair he'd fallen asleep in. This was definitely not one of his dreamless nights. The fever was still doing a very good job, not making it an easy night for this reason alone – the dream not helping his case at all. Ron was soaking, and in his sleep he had been able to remove both his yet black cloak and one of his shoes, leaving only a white holy sock on his left foot. He had always been one to talk in his sleep, and this time was not an excuse – now muttering silently under his breath, the muffling making the words quite inaudible for any creature not possessing the superpower of freakishly improved hearing. This constant muttering, the repeating of a very familiar name, was interrupted by rough coughs every other minute – making the following muttering a bit more hoarse. He was definitely getting worse by the minute.

_She seemed to poses some kind of special ability, knowing exactly when something troubled her brother to the core of his being, or maybe she just knew him all too well. Ron had never been able to figure it out, how she did it, but for some reason his sister seemed to turn up when he needed her – this time not being at all close to an exception. With the parchment still resting in his hand, Ron was stubbornly staring at the writing, as if his eyes alone could make it go away – or at least make the answer for his presence that day to appear on the parchment next to her neat writing. While he was standing there, staring at a small, torn, piece of parchment, silently wondering if he was going mad, he heard the very familiar knock on the door – not even doubting for a second whether or not it was his baby sister coming to his rescue._

_He didn't even bother leaving the kitchen, he didn't even head towards the door. Ron knew that within minutes, seconds even, Ginny would use her space key and search both the living room and his bedroom before heading towards the kitchen in her desperate, concerned, search for her favourite brother. She'd sent him several owls during these last few days, and he hadn't bothered to answer a single one of them – he wouldn't have known what to say even if he'd tried. Words seemed far too unnecessary these days._

_The sound of a key turning proved his suspicions to be correct, the actions that followed proved that he was right in every detail of his suspicions. Her footsteps echoed throughout the apartment, first making their way to the living room, fallowed by the bedroom, only to return to the living room while heading towards the kitchen. Ron turned slightly, catching a glimpse of the fiery red hair that, apart from its length, looked very much like his own. He liked her hair, she'd let it grow and it was now longer than he'd ever seen her have it before. Even though he quite hated to admit it to himself his little sister had turned out good – she was rather beautiful, truth to be told._

_'Hey big brother,' she said sweetly, smiling at him sympathetically, studying his features, his clothes, his being, 'how are you?' The question was asked in the same sweet voice as the opening line, and the sweet smile, that only his sister possessed, still flickered across her lips. She already knew the answer to her question, and Ron knew that she knew. She, as well as Hermione, had always been way too smart for her own good._

_'Could be worse,' he muttered, shrugging his shoulders as he turned back to stare at the invitation to the wedding of the year, as the press seemed to call it. Ron could feel his sister's eyes still focusing on him. 'I knew you'd come,' he said under his breath, more to keep the attention off from his wellbeing than anything else – this action, this statement, being a terrible mistake if trying to achieve just that._

_'I was worried,' Ginny started, as she slowly made her way towards him Ron turned around to face his sister and despite avoiding her eyes his own seemed to dart their way towards her face, and by the looks of it she really was worried. In silence Ginny reached towards her purse, from it she pulled out a parchment, not unlike his own apart from the fact that hers was not as torn and didn't look at all as old as his did. But it still possessed some similarities – the thickness of the parchment, the emerald green ink that the writing was in, as well as the message it contained. 'The invitations came,' she stated simply, stating the obvious fact that it was the cause of his misery as well as the reason for her stopping by. Ron simply nodded at this, leaving both of them silent for a matter of minutes._

_'I totally understand that you don't feel like going, Ron,' the younger of the two started, breaking the unbearable silence that not often occurred at any Weasley residence, 'and if I were you I know that I wouldn't even have considered attending, but it's Hermione, and it's Harry – they are your best friends, Ron,' she looked at him pleadingly, 'I hate it too, I really do. I hate what they've done, and I hate the way they make you feel, and if you want me to I won't go, hell I won't even speak to them. I just want my brother back. Just do whatever it takes, Ron,' tears were threatening to make their way down his sister's cheeks and Ron dove in for a hug, if it was to make her feel better or for it to have that same effect on him, he didn't know, 'the hell with Harry. The hell with Hermione – I just want my brother back.'_

_'I will Gin, I will,' he mumbled silently into her hair, feeling so grateful for the presence of his sisters company, 'It's just gonna take a while, I've got some serious recovering to do' he continued as he paused for a second and swallowed, 'and I'm not sure that going to the wedding is gonna help me with that.' Her response was silent, but he could feel her nodding, he knew that she understood just what he meant, and he knew that she'd be right there next to him despite whatever choice he made. They were Weasleys after all. Attending the wedding was possibly the worst thing he could do at this point. Nothing could change that. He simply couldn't go._

_Swallowing hard Ron released Ginny from his grip, reaching towards the invitation in his pocket, for what he intended being the last time that day. Headed for the trash bin, readying himself for the disposal of the wedding invitation that had been haunting his mind for the better part of three days. But just as he was about to throw it in the bin, just as he was about to leave the trouble of it all behind, he noticed it; a familiar neat scrawling on the back of the parchment, making his heart bit just a little bit faster. Even before turning it around he knew who had written it, he'd seen that writing so many times before that he would have been able to tell from a miles distance. With the writing, that simply screamed Hermione's name, he could read the words; **Please**** come. I need you to be there. **_

_Ron hated that that made all the difference._


	8. Trouble Sleeping

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter **__**8  
**__**Trouble Sleeping**_

Waking up, Ron was covered in sweat, something he was getting far too used to by now. What set this time apart from the others was the fact that he had no strength whatsoever when returning to the land of consciousness. It was all he could do not to pass out. Eating was out of the questions, it didn't matter if he could muster the strength to summon some breakfast, the bare idea of eating was nauseating. Instead Ron let his gaze flicker towards the fireplace, silently wondering to himself whether or not he would be able to relight the fire without accidently killing himself in the attempt. It was either that, or freezing to death. The sweat that had welcomed him when waking up was now sending a chilling feeling to every bone in his body. Shutting his eyes as a result of the pain, Ron reached for his wand. The sight that followed this action made his inside panic, opening his eyes all Ron could see was fog, thick fog, preventing him from making out any details at all. His sitting room was simply covered in mist, or maybe it was his eyes that were finally giving in.

Blinking a few times, Ron tried desperately to get his eyesight back. But after a time period concerning approximately a quarter of an hour, he was exhausted and he was ready to give up. He had to face it really, it had just been a matter of time before the eyes would've started to give up, he just hadn't expected it to happen so soon or at all so fast. Times were changing, things were different, and as soon has he could muster the strength to walk, and talk, he would get this sorted out. But for now, suppressing a yawn and close his eyes were pretty much all that he had potency of doing. But strangely enough, falling asleep didn't seem to be an option. So instead Ron kept his eyes closed, silently muttered a summoning spell and pulled the newly arrived blanket around himself, before he made himself comfortable in his armchair. If his body wasn't about to let him sleep, the least he would do was rest, seeing as he wasn't able to do anything but. Even muttering a silent '_accio_' had weakened him greatly.

Breathing heavily and as calmly as possible Ron was suddenly very aware of the fact that the fever he had gone to bed with the night before, still hadn't left him. This was new, usually a good night's sleep would do the trick and by the time he woke up the fever would be gone, and he would have at least a couple of hours before it returned. Blurred eyesight, a never-ending-fever and lack of strength – Ron would simply have to face the fact that things were not going in the right direction, and that he might have to get his things in order. He might just have to face the fact that this wasn't something he could do on his own. He couldn't do this alone, he needed her.

That's when it dawned on him.

_Weeks had passed since the dreadful Sunday on which Ron had received the invitation that had acted as a reminder of the times that had passed, and the times that were about to come. But looking at Ron, no one would've guessed that he was thinking about the future, he seemed to be stuck in the moment – dwelling on the past. He hadn't been to work, taking out all of his vacation days he had started calling in sick. By looking at him you'd suspect that the word 'shower' was something completely new to him, or that if he knew it his had broken. Ron had not showered or shaved in weeks, this had resulted in a fairly thick mass of ginger hair on his chin – not making him look old, but instead underlining the feeling that was making his chest feel heavy and his heart feel broken. He looked miserable. _

_Old boxes of muggle takeout food laid scattered over the floor – pizza boxes, Thai and Chinese food – the boxes was the only trace of any food consumption at all. By looking at the him you would have guessed that eating was no longer an dynamic action but rather an achievement on special occasion or when starving to death was the only other option. He hadn't slept in days, there was no question about that fact – red swollen eyes, as well as a distinct red area surrounding them. _

_Ron had spent days staring out his apartment window, looking at the buildings and streets surrounding it, looking at the dark London sky, looking at the cars and people wandering the streets below. Leaning back in his scruffy armchair he studied his apartment, the sitting room, the small kitchen that was barely visible from the position in which the chair was facing. Turning around Ron let his eyes wander towards the front door, towards the small alcove in which his bed was placed. It was all his, as it had been intended when he first moved in but not as he had intended. The furniture was all a bit scruffy, second-hand obviously, but he could live with that because he'd had bigger plans than that. Ronald Weasley had been saving every last knut, with the hopes of putting it all towards a small house in the London suburbs. But for that plan to have worked out it would've had to have been his name on the wedding invitation instead of Harry's. So it didn't seem as though Ron's plan was about to work out. So he'd spent the last few weeks going over his plan, over and over again, trying to figure out a new one. Only for him, there was no other plan, no possibility of another plan. There was no plan B, 'cause he never expected he'd need one. _

_He'd just have to face it – Hermione and Harry were getting married, they'd buy a house, leave town and start a family. They would leave. They would buy a house. They would start a family. This particular thought flickered through his head for the millionth time that week. Each time resulting in a horrible sensation travelling through the pit of his stomach. Their life suddenly flashed through Ron's mind; the wedding, the house, the children. The life he would never have, the life he and Hermione would never have together. Some would have told him not to give up, some would have encouraged him to win her back, to talk to her. But Ron knew her; he knew that when she'd made up her mind she was sure, Hermione would never make a decision without thinking it through. He just wished that for once in her life, she would have made the wrong decision and that she'd suddenly realise this and burst through his door. But this would never happen, he'd just have to come to terms with that. It simply couldn't be done. _

Hours had passed, but Ron was still awake and just as weak as when he had woken up. He still hadn't been able to get up, nor had he been able to light a fire. The blanket he had wrapped around himself wasn't doing much to prevent the cold from getting to him. The fever was getting worse – resulting in cold sweat all over the lousy and weak excuse of a body. Ron was on the verge of shaking, and the coldness in the room was making it all worse. Taking a deep breath, preventing the pain from spreading, Ron reached towards his wand. At the moment he needed the warmth that a fire would provide him with. Closing his fingers around the smooth piece of wood and pulled it out. Weighing the wand in his hand Ron breathed heavily before pointing it towards the fireplace and muttered under his breath. The little strength he had was not enough for him to do it silently. At the sight of the dancing flames, playing with each other, Ron let the hint of a smile flicker across his lips. A few seconds passed before he could feel the warmth coming for the flames eating the logs. A few minutes of silence, with the only sound being the sparkling sound from the fireplace. Ron closed his eyes slowly, silently begging that the next time he opened them the world would no longer be a blur.

_Pushing himself up from the sorry excuse for an armchair Ron walked up to the window. Leaning against the cold surface Ron took a deep breath. The cold glass was pressed against his forehead, and through the several strands of faded ginger hair Ron could feel the icy feeling travelling through his skin, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Swallowing hard Ron brought his hand towards his face, running it over his chin – Hermione had always hated it when he forgot to shave, she's said that she wanted to be as close to him as possible. He silently wondered when that had changed; when she'd stopped wanting that closeness, when she'd stopped wanting him. _

_Moving his hand towards the nape of his neck, he felt the soft curls of his ginger hair. His normally short and straight hair had grown longer over the past few months, making him look slightly older, more mature. The soft curls that searched their way towards his ears, that desperately tried to escape the touch of his neck, were a result of its length – that was something he secretly knew that Hermione had wanted; for him to let his hair grow slightly. She'd always, always, loved his hair, and she had told him so every time she'd touched the faded ginger stands. It was, she'd said, the thing that had made her eyes linger at the sight of him, that set him apart from the rest - she'd even told him that even though the Weasleys were famous for the colour of their hair, his was different from the rest – it had a different shade that made him special, that made him unique. He had loved her for saying that. _

_Inhaling a deep and long breath, Ron found that his hand had now found its way back to his face, his eyes. Now red, bloodshot even, his eyes did no longer possess the bright blue shade that they usually had, making his eyes look sad. Ron's eyes had always had a blue shade that had made them sparkle like water, it had made them look as though the iris really did consist of tropical seawater, taken from the midst of the water surrounding a never-before-seen island. Looking into them Hermione's eyes had shone with love. She'd once murmured something about it being literally possible to actually drown in those eyes of his. Making Ron feel rather flustered, before placing his lips light beside her ear and mumbled that hers just made him fall in love with her. But now, now the iris looked almost greyish, not possessing the bright shade they had when Hermione had studied them for hours on end. It was as though the shade, and the twinkle that came with it, had left alongside of her. Ron closed his eyes, letting the feeling of the cold glass overwhelm him, making him exhale heavily. _

_Rain drops slowly started to hit the cold glass window, and they soon sped up. With his forehead still pressed against the, now spotted and streaked, chilly glass Ron eyes followed the patterns that the small watery drops made as they were thrown against the window. Bringing his hand up towards it, Ron let his index finger follow a particularly lonesome rain drop as it slowly made its way down the, now covered, piece of glass. It left a rather confused trail behind, making it seem as though the small drop of rain didn't really know where it was headed. Just as it had reached the goal of its unplanned journey it was pouring down. A deafening sound reached Ron's ears as thousand of rain drops hit the window with such force that he couldn't help but to feel less lonely. For the first time in weeks he couldn't hear his own thoughts, and with that a sense of relief whelmed over him._

_Leaving the window, and the outside behind him Ron headed towards his bathroom. Strangely enough this small room was the tidiest one in the apartment – with only one towel hanging on a hook on the wall, and with only a few items in the small cupboard hanging above the hand-basin. Opening the door, ignoring the creak that told him that it did indeed need fixing up, Ron reached for his shaving-kit, and as he closed the small door he weighed it in his hand as he looked at him self in the mirror. His right hand immediately found its way back to his chin, dancing over the light-ginger mass of hair, before he pulled out his razor. _

_He needed to move on. _


	9. Dice

**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

**I Don't Know You Anymore**

_**Chapter **__**9  
**__**Dice**_

As Ron was doing his best to breathe fairly normally and regularly, drawing short breaths as often as seemed possible, while still unconscious, the fire that he'd lit hours before was desperately fighting for its life. Unaware of his body's desperate attempts to gather the little strength he had left, Ron spent minute after minute drawing constant shaky breaths. On a parallel basis, with his lungs constant need to pick up every bit of oxygen that was entering his body through his short, but even, breaths, the dying fire was doing the same thing – desperately grasping for molecules of oxygen. Whilst Ron was busy staying alive, the fire, that was most definitely closer to the verge of death, was doing pretty much the same thing. Grasping for what keeps us alive is what we do all the time, but it's only when at the verge of failing that we notice. Though unconscious and unaware of this process there was something in the way he let out the gathered up breaths that was unusual. It seemed as though his body was determined to get more carbon dioxide out of his body than was possible, as though the space for its habitation was slowly shrinking.

His condition had not generally worsened for days. A major change had not really taken place for weeks, but all of a sudden Ron was starting to break down, as it seemed; literally. Along with this, automatically, the fever had decided to stay for a while longer. It seemed as though the circumstances did not compose an inhabitable environment for his long time mate – the never leaving fever.

Whilst the fire was doing its one last attempt to burst into life, Ron's short breaths grew deeper, longer. Something was kicking in, attempting to fight whatever it was that kept attacking his system – and it seemed as though it was working, working very slowly, but still – it was working. Nothing has been going in the right direction for ages, and now that it was, it just seemed too good to be true. Ron had learned it the hard way – when things seem to be too good to be true, usually they were. But Ron wasn't aware of what was happening, and maybe his unawareness, him not being able to look at this event with the slightly negative impact that had seemed to settle in every fibre of his being, was a good thing. Maybe that gave him a stronger chance to fight it, his newly adopted pessimism as well as whatever it was that had gotten into his system.

'_It should be me,' Ron's deep determined voice echoed throughout the small church, making Hermione turn around in a nanosecond, facing him with her wand grasped firmly in her hand. Realizing who had uttered the words she slowly put her wand back, with a slightly confused look scattered across her face. _

'_What?' the question only had a time to linger for a second before Ron got up from the floor at the front of the aisle, where he had clearly been sitting while waiting for her to turn up. _

'_It should be me,' the statement had much longer time to linger, to really sink in, than the question that had been uttered only seconds before. Hermione's face was a gentle mixture between sadness, bewilderment and hopelessness. She clearly did not know where to start first, how to tackle this constantly rising issue that seemed to linger between her and her best friend. _

'_Ron-' she was broken off before even reaching mid-sentence, this too bringing a bewildered look to her face. Hermione did, to say the least, seem to be taken aback by Ron's determination. _

'_It's quite simple really,' Ron said as he walked towards her, standing at the midst of the aisle, 'I'm in love with you.' As the last words reached her ears Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Ron beat her to it, something that did not occur too often. 'I love you, I know that it doesn't matter, or that it makes any difference whatsoever, but I love you,' the words passed slowly through the air, the sound waves reaching Hermione's ears what seemed like seconds after he'd spoken them, 'If you think that I'm gonna stop just because you decided that marrying Harry was the most stupid thing you could think of doing, then maybe you don't know me as well as you thought, as well as I thought.' Every sentence was breaking down into words, every word was breaking down into letters, to syllables, reaching Ron's ear one by one. 'Just because the Cannons lose a game doesn't mean I'm gonna start supporting the Tornados – things get tough, it's not always easy, but you don't quit because of one lost game, I don't,' Ron was amazed by himself as the words rung through the air, he had never been one to think on his feet before, but maybe it was time for a change, 'I'm not giving up on __**this**__ because of one lost game, I plan on winning the cup one day,' stopping to catch his breath, as he readied himself, Ron noticed that Hermione seemed to be very taken aback by this unexpected approach, 'somewhere deep down you know you want me to.' The look on Hermione's face told him that she was doing her best to come up with something to say, something that would burst this bubble that he'd spent the last minutes blowing up. Deciding that a burst bubble was far from what he wanted he spoke once more._

'_Truth is,' he started as he continued to walk towards, the frozen, Hermione, 'I only came here so that I could tell you myself, I figured you needed to hear it from me.' This time the words did not linger, nor did they travel for what seemed like ages. This time the words reached Hermione at normal speed, and she spoke so after such a short time that the previous moments seemed to not have taken place at all. _

'_Hear what?' she asked as she straightened up, her both stern and confused gaze meeting his, 'Tell me what, Ron?' There was not a doubt in his mind when he decided that Hermione really wasn't one to hang around, waiting for the answer to come to her in time._

'_I came to tell you that,' Ron took a deep breath before he continued, making sure his gaze did not flicker, 'no matter how much you need me to attend your wedding,' his blue still fixed on her brown, 'I cannot.' She tried to look as though the impact of these words had a much gentler affect on her than they did. _

It was as though something had entered the room, an unnoticed breeze of air, for all of a sudden the dying fire, with its last feeble attempt, flickered into life. For no traceable reason the fire had managed to gather the strength it needed and risen. Ron was still sleeping, still enjoying the unawareness the unconsciousness brings with it. But now drawing long deep breaths, instead of the many short ones that made it sound as though he was having trouble breathing. Now, he sounded as though he was simply fast asleep. The fever still hadn't left; he was still covered in cold sweat. But at least something was going in the right direction. For now, that was something.

Stirring slightly Ron let out a breath, but was caught off by a yawn. Breathing heavily he stirred once more, turning his head slowly, before opening his eyes, blinking. He caught sight of the flickering flames dancing around in the fire place, not noticing the lack of logs. The sight seemed to have answered whatever question he had, and whilst drawing another deep breath, not bothering to stifle the yawn that fallowed, he closed his eyes. The only thing he could do now was to sleep.

'_Why?' her response had to be short, it had to lack the emotions that she felt rushing through her. He could not see it, she would not let him see it. But whilst this was what she was going for, the number of words she used did not hide the water glistening in her eyes. _

'_I love you too much,' Ron answered gently, trying to curve his lips into a smile, 'I love you with all my heart, and I'm breaking inside. I cannot watch you do this.' His answer was painfully truthful, and this she gathered; the painful truth that she could not avoid, it was impossible for it to go unnoticed. _

'_I would give anything for it to be me,' as the words left his lips there was not an attempt of a smile to be noticed, 'and I honestly can't figure out why it isn't.' With every word that he spoke something grew different, something happened, he just couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe it was the simple fact of letting her know, of making her realize. 'I don't know what it was that made me fall in love with you in the first place, but not once have I cursed the moment I did,' having reached her Ron grew painfully aware of how close they were actually standing, 'You make this world a better place,' he drew a breath, not knowing whether to regret the following words or not, 'at least you used to.' He did not look at her, he did not wait for a reaction. Slowly he bent down, his moth placed right beside her left ear, 'you're a Weasley, Hermione, I just don't know how to make you realize it.' With that, he left her standing in the middle of the aisle. _

'_I know, Ron,' her words reached him after only a few steps, 'I know that I __**should**__ be with you,' he voice was on the verge of shaking, but she was not on the verge of tears, 'and I __**do**__ love you.' Turning around Ron watched her, he watched her as she slowly brought her hand over her face, as she shook her head ever so slightly. 'Ron, I will never stop loving you, hell,' she let out a sigh, as though admitting defeat, 'you were my first, my first crush, my first kiss, my first love,' Ron couldn't help it, he couldn't help but to drink in every word she was saying, 'you will always be my first, Ron,' she swallowed, drawing a breath, 'no one will ever be able to take that away from you. But I gave Harry my word,' Ron __stopped__, 'I made him a promise.' _

'_And if you hadn't?' his hope was rising, his expectations were building up, he could feel it and she could tell it, aware of what impact her words had on him, aware of the impact his words had on her. _

'_It doesn't work like that,' she wouldn't cave. She had given Harry her word. She wouldn't cave. Then, at least, she'd __still have her word. Not aware that he had reached her again, Hermione looked up in surprise to find his blue eyes searching desperately for hers. _

'_Don't do this to yourself, Hermione.' His words were soft, caring. There was not an ounce of bitterness, of dislike, there was not a trace of anything but the sweet taste of caring softness in his voice. With that, Ron turned around, heading towards the door, the beginning of the aisle. Hermione watched his every step, he could feel her gaze following him and when he turned around he knew that his eyes would meet hers. _

'_I want to be your last,' the tone in his voice was determined, it was sweet and hopeful, 'I don'__t just want to be your first, I want to be both; your first __**and **__your last.' This time his attempt of a smile succeeded, 'I won't settle for anything less.' With that he turned once more, ready to leave, walking towards the door. His voice ringing in her ears._

'_In the end, I hope you won't either.'_


End file.
